There are three important aspects of (art) mediation of the unconscious; authenticity, accuracy, and originality. I have exhaustively investigated the first two in the past, but the third has been left unexplored since I feel like it hasn't been much of an issue thus far. I'm not sure if it is "an issue", per se, but I cannot deny the fact that this topic continues to bother me, as I've been furthering the methods for mediation of unconscious. Before going into the question of originality (of what I precisely mean by it), I should perhaps first lay out the duality of this whole paradigm. There are two "sides" for the artistic endeavour: subjective and objective. I have mentioned this before in this blog, but it bears repeating and clarification. With the subjective side, I mean in this instance the fully personal aspect - that is, what it means for the subject (artist himself) to convey things, and what he or she may gain from it. In this "subjective regard" the outside world is wholly meaningless. In other words, if the subject was to be fully confined into this subjective realm, this whole topic of "objective (side's) originality" would not be an issue, since there would be no-one around to care for it. Sadly, we do not live in a fully solipsistic subjective world, but are coupled with an objective existense with other observers, and this has its own implications and repercussions, such that it cannot be ignored - at least if wanting to convey something for others to see, which this very blog post has already done by existing in an accessable online space. Thus, we come into the objective side, where the issue lies. Before going into it though, this duality could be put into a handy column for clarity's sake; 1.Subjective (The author's perspective) 1.1 Authenticity (Does the story / work of art follow inner authenticity?) 1.2 Accuracy (How accurately the unconscious / inner authenticity has been followed?) 1.3 Originality (Has the work truly stemmed from the unconscious?) 2.Objective (The audience's perspective) 2.1 Authenticity (Does the work seem authentic for the outside observer?) 2.2 Accuracy (How accurately does the work seem to represent the author's intention?) 2.3 Originality (Has the viewer seen/read similar works somewhere before?) Wherein we can reference the appropriate thing accordingly, and at least attempt not making this any more complex than it needs to be. So, if we go in order with the aforementioned terminology, it can be stated that, so far I feel like having established the subjective ground "enough" such that the Authenticity (1.1), Accuracy (1.2), and Originality (1.3) are not an issue insofar as to make them unbearable hinderances when attempting new methods and avenues in either visual arts or literature. Authenticity (1.1) and Accuracy (1.2) I have explored quite a lot in the past few years, beginning from the very first blog-posts. Subjective Originality (1.3) is a rather interesting issue, but not overly pertinent for this post, as I feel it is something more theoretical, and perhaps better left to be explored in the future. Now, moving on to the objective side where the more - shall we say - real-life issues lie. Not much affecting the process of creation itself, but it has the potentiality to hinder distribution for the outside audience. Starting from Authenticity (2.1), we can already see some fluctuation. The earliest stories - from the literature side - are no doubt authentic, stemming from a very honest place within the depths of shadow work... barring the later stylistical influences from Thomas Ligotti. On the visual arts side it is difficult to say whether I "borrowed" anything either knowingly or unknowingly up to this point. It is highly doubtful, since I have no learned background on technique or style, nor do I know any teachers or influencers - it is all very authentic, in other words, and any possible "links" to something pre-existing has been selected by the unconscious projection. However, when considering the very latest works, I have stumbled upon this dilemma, which is to do with Subjective Accuracy (1.2) and Objective Originality (2.3)... as seemingly, by following inner authenticity (1.1), I increase Subjective Accuracy (1.2) but forsake Objective Originality (2.3). So, starting from beginning of this process: when I begun noticing that technical skill with simple pen & paper was simply insufficient for conveying the intented effect, I took looking into "enhancing methods". This I have already explained in previous posts, where I mention the move into digital editing. I consider this a successful iteration, a natural progress (even though there were some initial doubts). Then, after having some success with it, I still considered the combined "power" of pen & paper + digital editing to be insufficient. Something more was clearly needed. Thus I took into AI alteration, which added a layer of both authenticity and accuracy (1.1, 2.1, 1.2, 2.2) and aided in bringing the vision into fruition, and all was well for a while.
However, even after this, it was all still maddeningly inadequate, and I was finally forced to move into taking something directly from the world and altering it... and so we finally come into the true topic of this post, which is: for the outside observer, does it matter how the art is created? Is it simply the end result that anyone cares of, if the intention is honest and the end result is both subjectively and objectively better by all observable metrics - even if some of "true originality" is sacrificed by using already existing material? In short, is this new method more accurate and authentic, even if it sacrifices some of "true" originality? Does the overall "experience" for both unconscious mediation and objective quality increase by using this new method? Does it allow for creation of better mirrors for the psyche? I do not know. All I can do is to continue experimenting and see what comes up. For Sophia.
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Late last autumn I made a post titled "Projections Onto the Outside World" where I pondered on the reasonability of translating visuals from the digital into the physical side of things. I also questioned the validity of this endeavour, for it seemed unlikely to bring any additional value (subjective or objective) for the artistic-investigative path. Having done this for a few weeks now - after taking a hiatus during the darkest winter months - I hoped there would be something more substantial to report on this experiment. Alas, there is not. I can, however, detail some of the more insignificant insights that have occurred while tinkering on these pieces.
First, there is the realization about enhancement of participatory knowledge as John Vervake puts it in his Awakening from the meaning crisis series. According to John's theory (supported by ancient greek philosophies), there's multiple ways of "understanding" something - propositional, participatory, perspectival, and procedural. From these, it could be argued, participatory and procedural get trained more when working in full body instead of on computer by translating actions via mouse, controlling a digital brush in order to apply digital pixels on a flat screen. In physical, when creating frames from wood, one must know the wood, to paraphrase the aformentioned greek philosophers. This enhancement of participatory knowledge, in turn, might yield amplified insight into the art-object in question, allowing one to get closer to that famed "perfect mode of mediation" that most of the rants on this blog have been about. Unfortunately no objective metric of evaluation about this process exists, as I mentioned in the previous post. One must simply "trust the practise" and have faith that Sophia's guidance is accurate, that her instinctive shaping of the salience landscape holds true, no matter where it might lead. If it happens to lead into creation of these frames, pulling one to create more and more of these physical manifestations onto the world, then so be it. For Sophia. As I progress further and further into the psychic phenomena and the findings change accordingly, the objective world along its myriad horrors remains the same - but when the subjective view of these horrors alters, the mediation also has to change in order to remain authentic. In the earlier post I discussed the difficulty of this process, the uncertainty of remaining in the path of authenticity whilst juggling the ever-changing mental currents and changes in technical skill. When one gets more grounding in skill and firmer grasp of the mental currents, the landscape has already changed, the subjective mind elusively slipped further into uncharted territories, suddenly, without warning - and then, once again, the author finds himself on unknown waters. Such is the interplay between the subjective investigation and conveying its discoveries onto the objective world - difficult, frustrating; ever uncertain. Nevertheless, progress is being made, even if slowly, and at times into erroneous directions.
Not long ago I thought attempting a new approach for this problem: taking something of the outside and consciously creating my own illustrative impression for it. Collaboration has never been of much interest to me due to the exceedingly esoteric nature of my own subjective search. However, perhaps new angles can be found by occasionally switching the focus onto something else entirely - a search for subjectively resonating images or words, purposefully avoiding mediating one's own subjectivity just for a moment, just to see whether the act of reflecting would bring forth something unexpected... and perhaps useful later on. And even if not, at least making artwork for others acts as good practise; previously unattempted themes forcing the pen & words towards hitherto uncharted territories. Reflections eventually reflecting back. At the time of writing this, a substantial collective event has been ongoing for about three weeks now. While I usually steer away from such societal issues - for example the whole Covid-19 nonsense - this time, after having been attempting to mediate the personal unconscious for a few years now, I thought of taking an exception and turning attention to mediation (or an attempt thereof) of the collective. Now, I understand this to be a grandiose undertaking, and it is uncertain as to what degree "the intuition" remains within the personal space; perhaps altogether unable to escape its confines to represent the broader landscape of feeling... but as always is the case with art, only option is to experiment - and this what this newest work represents. Well, to be exact, I did one experimental piece as well not long ago, which I think was relatively successful. Disregarding usual rules, I will post it here for reference's sake, before continuing in text. This other work, while retaining certain subjectivity, no doubt is clear in its representation. However, the point of this post was to posit the question: as to what degree tapping into the unconscious has the power of prediction? If - and when - the personal is tied to the collective, and thus is relatively easy to merely "depict" rather than foresee, what, exactly is the distinction between these two; what is the "difficulty" of stepping over the boundary into the realm of prediction... and, the wildest thought of all (playing with Jung's theories): might this predictive presentation have manifesting powers? I would not go that far, but I know it not to be outside the realms of possibility.
After all, as the old folk warned: do not speak the devil in vain, lest he turn his attention to you. As I've learned along the years, personal-anecdotal evidence holds as much importance for an individual as any external theory of the mind. Without a doubt, Jung's framework of the anima and shadow are crucial knowledge for anyone, as without them, one is left perplexed in the face of the sudden psychic forces that inevitably surface in any serious psychoanalytic endeavour.
One might, however, be uncertain as to which exact framework to choose, whether to follow individuals like Jung, Heidegger, or some random internet guru; ultimately it does not make a difference, as long as the model comes second - in other words, one should first and foremost pursue inner authenticity prior to looking for external explanations, and only subsequently seek outside models insofar as they align with the already established internal phenomenology. If the model does not correlate with what's being experienced, it's not of the anima's (or the Self's) fault, but that of the model's. It's all too easy to fall into pre-existing frames in the contemporary era. This is becoming increasingly evident as more and more people find themselves lost in the modern, self-perpetuating world of hauntology that refuses to offer real solutions or move forward. Any tumultuous time is ripe for false prophets (as is the age-old pattern), and our time is no different. Unfortunately, real spiritual work is difficult, strenuous, time-consuming, exhausting, and even dangerous. There are no outside solutions to be had, and it all comes from rigorous isolative introspection. Then, and only then, when enough time has been spent in said isolative introspection, should one go seeking for models to apply their findings onto, to see whether there's guidance to be had in form of old texts or teachings of gurus. If yes, then all the better for the individual. If not, then at least one has not been falsely led by outside forces, and inner work may continue - albeit in an unfortunately sorrowful solitude. Anyway, this post was to be of my anecdotal example rather than an incoherent rambling of the state of society, so here goes. I was both fortunate and unfortunate to find a correlating model within Jung's theories of the anima. Fortunate in the sense that at least eventually I stumbled upon a codified system, on findings of a esoteric psychologist who had delved into all this far further than any man prior - and, as I suspect - ever will. Jung recognized, in his model, the anima as an interfacing force between the Self and the ego, which can neatly be understood as an opposite to the persona's role as an interface between the ego and the outside world. Since most of the early work is done with the shadow, it roughly equally influences both the persona and the ego (and thus is more "visible"), then, later anima-work correspondingly deals with the Self and the ego. This is where things get strange, and, for the lack of better terms, haunting & eerie. This process can only be furthered with what I've come to call a "dialogue" with the autonomous force that often takes the shape of a woman (or multiple women... but that's an another story) - hence Jung's famous "inner woman" as well as the well-known artist's muse. Now, I cannot possibly know how other people go on about their dealings with such profound forces, but fortunately I need not know, having a relatively strong intuition guiding the process. Not to say that this process is perfect, far from it, as it often involves a great deal of uncertainty and outright paranoia - mostly directed at the process itself. What is the right path, ultimately; what practises to follow, what thoughts to examine, what feelings to highlight - and most importantly, how much to meddle into it all with conscious thought? Almost any conscious activity has the potential to poison the authentic connection - but without conscious thought, nothing gets done, no word written nor painting completed. Thus, it ends up being a never-ending dance on a blade's edge. What word to choose, what brush to hold... and in the midst of that is the ever-present glare of the anima, judging and reprimanding for not being technically proficient enough, not being fast and efficient enough. There's always more work to be done than both time and mental reserves allow. For, after all, the story should've been finished today, the painting completed yesterday. No rest for the wicked. In the above image, one can see an example of a largely abstract art. It has been generated artificially for the most part, save for the general space and background. Despite the random-seeming nature of this work, it has not been made by "accident". Quite the contrary, as a lot of hours have been used in the making, first in initial production with simple pen & paper, later on in digital editing, and finally in the AI alteration and subsequent polishing. Many attempts were made with different algorithms and colour schemes before the "final" image was completed. It seemed ready, it seemed complete - at least sufficiently so that inner peace about it was reached. But what was the intent?
This example serves well for the broader question in literature that I've been wondering the past few years, always balancing the conscious editing of both style and structure, attempting to stay firm in authenticity, but wanting as well to remain coherent and focused. As mentioned in earlier posts, some conscious shift in tone is sometimes necessary in storytelling which ends up benefiting the intented effect, enhancing authenticity, so to speak. This feels like an isolated exception, however, as rare are those cases where such clarity can be achieved for both the conscious and the unconscious. Thus, when the problem remains the same in small and large scales (all levels of analysis, in other words), then the overall question is ever more maddening: what is the intent of it all? The question can be examined from both the subjective and the objective. From the subjective perspective, the answer seems quite clear: to reach deeper understanding, to re-remember the Self, to serve Sophia, to better align with the unconscious forces, and so on. This is what most of the arts - true arts - should be about; an authentic exploration of the unknown forces. From the objective perspective, the question seems harder - for, on the other hand, such exploration can in some cases be viewed as worthwhile and interesting for the outside observer, it quite rarely ends up being anything profitable or "useful" to anyone. Other people may experience subjective resonance with a particular story or artpiece. They may appreciate the effort and wish the author a fine day. Perhaps a random passerby even throws a coin into the empty jar. But at the end of the day, what has been achieved? And is that all? Or should any of this even matter, as one continues the subjective exploration in isolation? The answer should be a resounding "no" for all intents and purposes (as of the arts, the whole point of it being simply one's own subjective investigation). However, the "primal human need" - ironically from an unconscious subjective source that seems hard to trace - continuously seems to insist otherwise. I do not know why, but I do know that I loathe all kinds of marketing or "pushing" into the outside world. There is the split, a grand gulf between these worlds, of wanting to remain authentic and in peace, but at the same time recognized and seen. I do not know how they could be reconciled, nor do I know if they even can. Along the passing months, tentative steps have been taken in order to further actualize the visual arts. As the writing side of things has been left - for the moment - on the back seat, the question of conceptualization has plagued the mind. In the post titled "In search for the perfect medium", I alluded at the idea that only music, ultimately, could be sufficiently close to bringing forth the full "image" of this artistic endeavour. However, as it became increasingly clear that I lack both the funds and the skills to even begin taking on this monumental task, I instead opted to focus on furthering the visual side of things. Thus, these paintings.
As the summer turned into autumn, and autumn slowly now turning into winter, I took on to attempting a number of "physical prototypes" - that is, with the thought of how could the digital images be translated into the objective world. No doubt the digital side, with the reach of internet, will ultimately prove more useful than the traditional route of distributing the vision. However, there's something inarguably tangible in the physical medium, and paintings are something that could - theoretically at least - be sold to an interested art-enthusiast... whereas the digital copies can be endlessly reciprocrated, their value quickly diminishing to zero. As a sidenote, I also briefly looked into the wild world of NFT's as well, a process of "minting" images into unique tokens via crypto-means... a long story, and not that pertinent to this post. In short, it turned out to be a dead end. At least for the moment. So, what of the physical copies, then, that I've managed to create a fair number by now? Per usual, I do not know, other than making a blog post about the progress. The paintings now hang on the walls of my room, staring idly at the artist. Perhaps a physical memento of sorts, of having had at least something completed, but so far they've yielded little financial value - in fact, only negative. This is, of course, entirely on me, since virtually no-one knows of their existence due to my distaste of marketing. In the end, it's up to the individual alone to do something about it, but knowing how the world operates, with its vicious greed, envy and opportunism, the options of seeking outside help seem woefully limited. As for now, I shall continue making these prototypes, in the hopes of eventually having the strength of will to connect "relevant personalities" of the field. The types of personalities who, no doubt, will laugh me out the room, but this is to be expected. I shall not weep about it - it will only strenghten my resolve for Sophia. For about a year now I've been struggling with a particular drawing, coming back to it time and time again, confident of having "completed" it each time, but yet returning after a week or two to tinker with it "just one more time". I'm sure I'm no exception to this obsession, for it is not uncommon for artists to never be content with their productions. However, what I've noticed is that with certain, particular pieces there's something deeper, a more profound sense of un-fulfilledness; that something grander draws one back to that very specific work of art.
What I'm speaking of, is of course Sophia, but as we all know, the inner workings of this muse are difficult to understand. She speaks to us in dream-like images, giving out suggestions not in words, but in emotions, molding the salience landscape of the recipient in subtle ways - and, sometimes, if her feeling-words go unheeded, perhaps not-so-subtle ways. But that's beside the point of this post, which was intented to examine this artistic obsession more broadly. Even if no objective metric can ever be available for subjective endeavours, I assume all artists can sense moment where the point of diminishing returns have been reached. One can tinker with a painting or a sentence unto infinity, but, most often the time-restraints of the real world appoint deadlines that are hard to ignore. Even if one was to have all the time in the world, the stereotypical artist will (them psychologically being more prone to extraversion and openess) eventually lose patience and wish to move onto something fresh. There's a subcategory, however, of the scitzhoid-autistic types who see no issue in airbrushing the tiniest of pixel in a digital painting or honing the most insignificant of commas in a novel's sentence. Wherein lies the reasonable line then; at what point one must deem a painting or a sentence "complete". As is usual with my ranty blog posts, I do not know the answer to these questions I ask of my imaginary audience. Earlier, some months ago, I wrote how isolated one is in trying to judge these invisible metrics that are outside the scope of scientific tools of measurement. All one has is Sophia, on his or her's side, and by her word shall the brush move or keyboard click. Along the summer I have been alternating with writing and experimenting with visual arts. Although not many new pieces have been created, this experimentation still seems - at least to me - worthwhile enough endeavour, at least sufficiently so that I retain the feel that not all time has been wasted. I any case, the point of this post was to examine this experimentation, to document its results, and analyze whether it has brought enough "objective" value to the whole of sublimation process.
Starting from spring, I increasingly learned to use Krita (the digital editing software), discovering a number of useful tools for enhancing images. No doubt the true professionals, those who have grown into the art from a younger age, or who have gone through years of schooling in the subject, would consider my findings trivial and/or mandatory. To someone like me though, who works in isolation, any small step is a worthwhile one, and so, knowing to use just one more style of brush or learning the meaning of "dodge" in visual arts terms, feels like a victory. From this experementative journey I ventured forth into Deep Dream algorithm - an AI system that was developed a few years ago by Google, something that I looked into back when it was new and novel, but subsequently forgot, until it unexpectedly resurfaced in a random Discord discussion. From there, I took to making an account for myself, to try and see how this new AI aid would alter my art-mediation. The results were, well, not entirely unexpected, but interesting nonetheless. The important question remains though, as I alluded before, whether this "improvement" - albeit unquestionably effective in visual terms - remains the correct path. If a larger number of observers find the images more alluring, resonating, better in short, does that still mean that they are more accurate? I do not know. There's so much, in general, about the subjective realm that is exceedingly difficult to bring into objective measurement. This is why I referred the subjective side of art-mediation as quickmire back two years ago in my "about" section of this site. I still retain that opinion, and it's unlikely to change. One remains so alone, so isolated, in his or hers journey of mediation and experimentation. Still, as so many times repeated, it remains the only reasonable manner of existing after being confronted with such vistas of the numinous. Sublimation, as Zapffe wrote and Ligotti later concurred, will ever be the only sufficient manner of dealing with such existential phenomena. For an especially attuned artist, that is. The rest of the folk will remain content in their distractions and other trivial nonsensicalities. Blessed be those who cannot see. As the late Mark Fisher made his remarks (now a decade ago) concerning the slow decline of our western culture, the world was already in a steep decline. His examples were from music, when he pointed out the fact that very little had changed since the explosion of rock'n'roll in the seventies. His eye was especially focused on punk-rock, a genre which acted as a rebellious outlet for the underclass; a genre that was well-known for its raucasious pushing of boundaries - until, it too, got consumed by the ever-enroaching machine of capitalism, slowly turning this authentic expression of anger and rage into a parody of itself, until there was nothing left but a husk, a smouldering ember of the flame of youthful vigour.
Now, hauntology, as a term, refers to the phenomenon of "culture stalling" of which the field of music is only a singular example. This halting of progression can be witnessed in numerous parts of the western culture, coincidencing with various degenerating tendencies of the contemporary culture-war. One can not help but feel the sense that "once there was hope for the future" or "in the past, there seemed to have been a future" - future that is now lost. What was that future, exactly, and what precisely has been lost? This has been my point of fascination for the past few months. In my observation, it is evident that the phenomenology of hauntology is correct - that is (in other words), the remarks of late Mark Fisher are accurate. We are in a kind of "stalemate of cultural development", and have been so for decades now. Fischer claims that the turning point was in the nineties, with the downfall of musical culture, but for all we know it could've started earlier. The exact point does not matter - instead, what matters is the factuality of it. Numerous examples, the overly-prevalent longing for nostalgia as a prime one, are reminders of that. All the re-hashes, re-imagenings, re-visitations of the past (mostly eighties) show us that the current cultural zeitgeist of 2020's is unable to produce anything new and forward-looking. Instead, the effort is in the attempt of re-purposing the past, and with it, the hope of re-vitalization of the present is conjured forth. Unfortunately such conjuring is impossible, for the past has already, well, passed. One can go back, but not all the way back, as one great musician once remarked. In the same sense, as an example, one can revisit his or her old hometown as an adult, but it will not be the same, even if nothing has changed. Even if, via some miracle, the whole town had been flash-frozen in time, the person himself has been inevitably altered by all kinds of life-experiences, and thus, the past - the true past - cannot be brought back. This holds true all the same in small scales (the invidual), as for larger ones (the whole of culture). This is what late Mark Fisher correctly observed - and his observations are, by now, a decade old, most of his books having been published around the turn of the first decade of this millenium. Very little has changed since then in my view... or to be more precise, his words have only been proven truer than what they were back then, ten years ago - a time that feels so distant, yet so close. Welcome to a time that refuses to change. |
A.K
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